


Moving On

by petrichornights



Series: Elementary 12 Prompt Series [1]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Friendship, Gen, Post-1x17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petrichornights/pseuds/petrichornights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going through some old stuff when permanently moving into Brownstone, Joan finds a memory she's not sure she wants to uncover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Elementary or the characters - though it would be fun if I did.
> 
> Mucho thanks to Kathleen for beta-ing!

“Why does she have so much _stuff_?!” Sherlock exclaimed in his head as he rummaged through what seemed to be an endless amount of moving boxes.  
  
It had been several weeks since the whole apartment porn incident and all of Joan’s belongings had been moved into storage. Upon taking Sherlock’s offer to move into the Brownstone with him and stay on as his permanent companion, Joan finally found some time to do a proper move. She brought along Sherlock, who appeared to be enthralled with what he was finding, due to the fact that there were no calls from Captain Gregson lately and he had “nothing better to do”.  
  
“You know,” Sherlock started, picking up a a small black makeup case, holding it at arms length. “I’m pretty sure these could be organized either by shade, tone, or ingredient. Instead, you’ve thrown them together to the point of ‘why bother?’.”  
  
Joan didn’t waste her breath in responding, but still rolled her eyes. “Hmmm,” she murmured, shuffling through some boxes and finding some very old mail that had been stuffed in along with the front room end table knickknacks. There were letters and cards from around six months ago that had gone unopened. Most of them were from Christmas; the thought of reading about the success stories of her cousins’ children made her nauseous, so she stuck the envelopes back where she found them.  
  
After folding the current box back up, she called out to Sherlock, who was examining the contents of her sock drawer. “Sherlock, do you think you could put these boxes into the back of the car?”  
  
“In a minute. I’m currently sorting out the cotton, polyester, and wool pairs by thread count.” He replied, undoing a rolled pair of socks and then folding them over, placing them down gently. He picked up a pair of nude-colored hose and held them up. “Do you have use for these? If not, I do have an experiment I am wanting to try.”  
  
“Sherlock!” Joan repeated, in serious tone. “Please?”  
  
Putting down what he was doing, Sherlock slowly stood up and grabbed the stack of boxes standing next to his companion. His facial expression was unamused as he ever so lightly brushed against her on his way towards the parked car. Joan could hear him muttering something about practicality and she shook her head.  
  
She turned back to the task at hand, resting her chin on her hand as her left hand cradled the right elbow. There was so much that needed sorting out... though she could do that once everything was back at the house.   
  
Upon opening another box to quickly examine the items inside, a robin’s egg blue box caught her eye. She reached in and carefully pulled it from under some brown folders full of old work papers, making sure she didn’t disturb what was inside of it. Joan hadn’t seen this box in years. She reached absent-mindedly behind her for a place to sit, settling on the small footstool where Sherlock had previously been. It had been so long that Joan couldn’t remember what was inside the slender blue box, but she knew whatever it was was going to trigger an emotion she may or may have not wanted to forget.  
  
After staring at the item in her lap for a few moments, Joan had finally worked up the courage to open it when Sherlock came strutting back. “Did you know, if you’re going fast enough down the street during warmer weather, the pressure in your tires could spontaneously combust due to an increased wear down the center from too much air pressure?”  
  
Joan’s concentration was shot by the ruined moment. Sherlock looked down at the woman, observing her every feature. “It’s important you open it.” he told her, nonchalantly.  
  
Looking up at the man, Joan tilted her head to the side. She didn’t speak, but the look on her face was clear.  
  
“I know you’re afraid to open a can - or box, in this case - of worms, but as I recall Watson, you once told me part of recovery is addressing painful things. If you ignore them they become triggers.” Sherlock motioned down to the shoebox in Joan’s lap. Her fingers were still on the edges of the lid, seconds away from revealing what was inside.  
  
Joan shook her head. “You’re right,” she sighed. “I don’t know why I’m so hesitant to open it. It’s just... I know it has to do with a part of my life that’s over and I’m scared.”  
  
Sherlock nodded slightly as he watched her take hold of the top cover and gently tug it off the bottom piece. There was white tissue paper folder over, as if there were a pair of brand new shoes inside, but instead of the smell of leather and factories came the distinct smell of latex glove powder, similar to the scent of a hospital room. Laying between the sheets of paper was a black roped Littman stethoscope.  
  
“This was the present for passing my first round of boards.” Joan spoke softly. “I remember my parents were so proud of me. They always knew I was destined for something great...” She trailed off, averting her eyes.  
  
“They were right,” Joan glanced up at Sherlock, not quite sure of how to take in what he just said. “You may have made a mistake in your medical career, but that doesn’t make you any less of a person.” Sherlock looked her straight in the eyes and finished, “If anyone has taught me that, it’s you.”  
  
Joan smiled. “Thank you.”  
  
Sherlock clapped his hands together. “Well, if we’re done here, Captain Gregson called about fifteen minutes ago. We’re to meet him and Detective Bell around Colombia Heights and Clark. Suspected homicide and robbery!” He grinned slightly and walked towards the car.  
She watched him go, and Joan shook her head. Taking another look at the contents of the box, she smiled as she placed the lid back on. She walked over to her storage unit, setting the blue box on top of the other brown ones before shutting and locking the door.  
  
Fear was an emotion she no longer needed as long as he was around.


End file.
